


Eminence

by CruelBeauty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blasphemy, Cardinal! Crowley, Catholic Guilt, Inspired by The Young Pope, M/M, Pope! Aziraphale, Religion, Vatican
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23671633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruelBeauty/pseuds/CruelBeauty
Summary: They frequently met at a bench near the edge of Vatican city at night. They both preferred the night to day time. It seemed like the only time they could be Aziraphale and Crowley instead of Pope Leo XIII and Trusted Cardinal Crowley. Aziraphale stumbled across Crowley and they began to talk one night. It since then became a tradition and was jokingly referred to by the two men as The Arrangement.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 87





	Eminence

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely inspired by the show The Young Pope. My knowledge of Catholic Things is iffy. Don't take it too seriously. This is one big blasphemous mess. Enjoy.

"Your Holiness." He said, kneeling quickly to press a kiss to his ring, his knees already aching with the short movement.

"Your Eminence." He replied, a small smile on his face, the white zucchetto cap he wore disappearing in his white fluffy hair. 

"You know I don't like you calling me that," Crowley said, looking at the floor while raising to his feet. The large cross he wore hit the buttons on his top, making a small sound in the quiet of the night.

"I imagine as much as I don't like you calling me your Holiness I imagine. At least not here." He said, waving his hand vaguely to reference the bench they sat at surrounded by trees. 

They frequently met at a bench near the edge of Vatican city at night. They both preferred the night to day time. It seemed like the only time they could be Aziraphale and Crowley instead of Pope Leo XIII and Trusted Cardinal Crowley. Aziraphale stumbled across Crowley and they began to talk one night. It since then became a tradition and was jokingly referred to by the two men as The Arrangement.

It was typically a time to discuss things unrelated to the church but occasionally it slipped into conversation. It was hard for it not to considering their occupations.

The moonlight made Aziraphale look even more pale than normal, the white of his robes casting a glow on his face. He looked positively holy which was truly no surprise to Crowley. He seemed like an angel to Crowley.

They both looked at the trees, listening to the sound of the wind moving through them.

"The press and the Cardinals grow restless," Crowley said quietly.

Aziraphale didn't respond, but Crowley knew he heard him.

"They push for you to make a statement on the matter." 

"I know."

"It isn't like you to put things off like this. At least not something this demanded."

Aziraphale sighed, his shoulders nearly touching Cardinal Crowley's. 

"Gay preists have to be addressed. It isn't going away. You have to make a statement. With the recent news of Bishop Andrews being gay it is crucial you make a statement. They need to know what to do about it."

Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale, his blue eyes full of sadness. "They want me to condemn him. Them."

Crowley adjusted his cross. "Yes, of course they do. This is the way of the church. Well most of it."

Silence fell upon them for many moments. "May I pray with you?" Aziraphale asked so softly Crowley thought for a moment he imagined it.

Crowley raised an eyebrow but nodded. 

Aziraphale turned his body towards Crowley and gently took his hands in his own. Then closed his eyes and began to whisper between them.

"Oh holy father, I beg for your assistance and guidance. I am torn about what I must do. I am pressed more and more each day to make a verdict on the righteousness of gay priests and gay clergy. Priests who have dictated themselves to celibacy and God. Yet, I am asked to condemn their very selves and hearts. I am pressed to condemn love. In this darkness you have given me light. I praise you for Cardinal Crowley. I praise you for guiding him and therefore guiding me. His dedication is inspiring and keeps me true. Continue to guide us through these trying times oh Lord. Amen."

Crowley's heart stuttered as the Pope prayed. Aziraphale held Crowley's hands, his thumb stroking the back of it in smooth motions as his soft voice spoke into the air between them. 

Aziraphale fluttered his eyes open. "What am I to do?" Aziraphale asked, his eyes boring into his own.

Crowley swallowed, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. "Holy father," he said, his voice trailing off. 

"I must ask you, to tell me, what you think I should do."

"Aziraphale," he said brokenly. "I shouldn't advise you in this matter."

Aziraphale looked Crowley over. "You must be truthful. Please, when I ask you this. Cardinal Crowley- Crowley. Not as the Holy Father. But as a friend," the Pontiff said, gazing at the side of Crowley's face bathed in the moonlight. 

"Confide in me. Confidentially. Are you a homosexual, Crowley?" 

Crowley turned further away, his hands adjusting his biretta. He knew this day would come. He could not lie to Aziraphale the man. Let alone Aziraphale the Holy Pope. A tear rolled down his face slowly, his voice breaking. "Yes, Holy Father. I am."

Aziraphale nodded. "If I were to condemn gay Priests? Bishops? Cardinals?"

"You would therefore condemn me,” he said with his voice shaking. “If you want my resignation I understand, your Holiness." Crowley said, and dropped to his knees in front of Aziraphale, his head bowed, ready to accept his fate.

Aziraphale reached his hand out and gently touched the side of Crowley's face, turning it upward. "My dear boy, I could never condemn you. And you mustn't judge me when I say this, but I couldn't condemn you if God themself asked me to do so."

Crowley's lower lip wobbled as a sob caught in his chest. His warm brown eyes filled with tears. "Holy father, you don't mean that."

"I believe it as much as I believe in God themself," he said with a firmness he wish he felt for other things in life.

"Forgive me, but may I hug you?" Crowley asked, terribly vulnerable in the moonlight with Aziraphale's hand on his face.

Aziraphale didn't answer but leaned down to envelop the Cardinal in his arms. A hand moving to the back of the Cardinal's head to push his face into his neck.

Though Aziraphale valued Crowley highly as a Cardinal and a colleague, particularly his work with children, he valued him most as a friend. To lose him would lose Aziraphale himself

They separated after many minutes, Crowley's eyes rimmed with red. His lips as bright as the red robes he wore so well. "Thank you."

Aziraphale gazed fondly on him, a tightening in his chest. With relief painted on his face, his scent in his nose, Aziraphale was certain he had seen few more lovely things.

The Pontiff shoved down the bubbling feelings in chest, sending a quick silent prayer to God. "I will retire for the night. I would like for you to dine with me tomorrow morning and help me prepare my address to the Cardinals."

"Yes, your Holiness," Crowley said with a soft smile and left, leaving Aziraphale to ponder in the dark.

. . . . .

Aziraphale settled into the seat and took a deep breath. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was two days ago.”

“Proceed.”

“I am guilty of having impure thoughts of touching someone. I took pleasure in impure thoughts. And I commited immodest acts alone. I am sorry for these and all my sins,” he said quickly in one long line.

He hadn’t felt such shame confessing something in many years.

“Your penance is three Hail Mary’s and to pray for restraint and guidance. If I might also offer some person guidance, do not let this sway you. You must stay focused, Holy Father.”

Aziraphale nodded though he knew the Cardinal wouldn’t see it through the confessional. “Amen.”

“Amen.”

. . . . .

“Holy Father,” Crowley greeted, meeting him in his dining room, a plate already set for him.

“Your Eminence. You look well,” Aziraphale commented. Crowley’s hair was getting longer everyday. The red was now in soft waves just past his face, framing his face delicately.

“As do you.”

He pulled out his seat across from Aziraphale and took a sip of the coffee set there. 

“Good?” Aziraphale asked.

“Perfect. You remembered how I take my coffee.”

Aziraphale gave a warm laugh. “How could I forget. I will never forget when I accidentally took a sip of yours instead of my own. Nearly gave me a stroke.”

“Oh it isn’t that bad. Don’t you know it’s good for you?” Crowley said with a grin.

The Pope huffed. “The same way any vice is I reckon?”

The Cardinal winked and took another sip. “Mmm it is pretty good but not as good as some other vices I can think of.”

The Pontiff blushed and took a sip of his tea. Crowley always did like to tease him. “Now, for the reason I asked you to dine with me today. How am I to inform the Cardinals and the peoples of my decision?”

“Forgive my ignorance, but what is your decision exactly? Last time we talked it hadn’t been very clear.”

Aziraphale set down his silverware with a careful slowness. “I want to make a statement on homosexuality.”

“I know this yes. But to what end?”

Aziraphale wrung his hands. “I want the church to no longer condemn it. To allow gay priests. To accept gay church members and give them communion.”

Crowley tried to keep the smile threatening to overtake his face in check. He had been dreaming of this his whole life. He had been fighting for a place in the church his whole life. Keeping his identity a shameful secret. Never letting others know for fear he would lose being able to do the charity work with children he valued so highly. 

Being gay and being a pedophile were nearly synonyms in the language of the Catholic Church. Crowley was so fearful of his work with the orphans being taken from him.

“This would allow so many young people and gay members on the church to feel more welcome.”

“The only issue is I do not know how to go about telling the Cardinals and people.”

Crowley gave a warm smile. “Well I can help you with that part. I am not known for my writings for no reasons, your Holiness.”

Aziraphale laughed lightly, “Of course.”

. . . . .

“Your Holiness.” 

“Cardinal Gabriel.”

“For fear of sounding like a broken record, the Cardinals need an answer. I need an answer,” he said with a cold smile. He never forgave Aziraphale for winning the Conclave over him. Gabriel had been so certain he would win. Aziraphale’s very unexpected win at such a young age was unprecedented. 

“I understand this, yes,” Aziraphale said, trying to keep his annoyance out of his voice.

“So, can I tell the council of a date?”

Aziraphale stroked the cover of his bible on the desk before standing and making his way to the window. He looked over the city and the falling sun. “I have not yet decided on one no.”

Gabriel huffed an exasperated noise. “You know the problem with-”

“Holy Father?”

Aziraphale felt his shoulders drop with the sound of the familiar voice. “Cardinal Crowley?”

Crowley gave a smirk to Gabriel, sauntering across the room to kiss his ring, a somewhat unneeded movement but one he was sure to do as often as he could. He told himself it was out of respect for the Pope and nothing more. It was definitely not an excuse to press his lips to the Pope’s warm and well manicured hands.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes back at him. 

Secretary of State Gabriel and Cardinal Crowley never got along. Their rivalry was notorious. The Liberal Devil Cardinal Crowley and Firm Traditionalist Angel Gabriel. There were at least a couple books written on the topic.

Aziraphale knew for a fact Crowley collected them, he even had a signed copy of a book that was particularly scathing about Cardinal Gabriel.

“I am sorry to interrupt but the Holy Father must discuss the new plans for the upcoming budget.”

Aziraphale tried to hide his smile and put on a sympathetic face. “Cardinal Gabriel, I am sorry but I really must take care of this.” He said and vaguely motioned towards the door.

Gabriel nodded and left quickly muttering something under his breath.

The door slammed behind him, leaving the two men alone together.

Aziraphale let out a long sigh of release. “Your Eminence, you truly have the best timing.”

Crowley gave a warm smile and came over to stand next to him looking out of the window, nuns were walking around the gardens. “Every meeting with Gabriel is too long if you ask me,” he said with a chuckle. “I figured you could use some saving.”

Aziraphale couldn’t stop the small laugh bubbling up in his chest. He turned towards Crowley, his eyes roaming over him. The setting sun cast a golden light over him, turning his hair to a fiery red that matched his Cardinal robes. His brown eyes seemed to practically melt, a content look on his face.

Aziraphale forced himself to look away, suddenly feeling very somber.

“What in the name of good things are those shoes?” Crowley asked with a teasing grin, his eyes at Aziraphale’s feet.

The Pope glanced down at the shiny white shoes he wore and blushed. “Well, you see, um,” he paused and looked at Crowley’s warm smile that never seemed to hold judgement. “I like them,” he finished lamely.

He doesn’t think he would admit that to anyone else in the world but he was willing to with Crowley. Aziraphale isn’t sure when but at some point Cardinal Crowley became his best friend. The only person besides God he was willing to be completely honest with.

Crowley stared a moment longer than nodded his approval. “I like them. Very shiny.” 

Aziraphale beamed and wiggled a little next to Crowley. “I was worried they were too much.”

Crowley shrugged. “If you like them then they aren’t ever too much.”

. . . . .

Aziraphale kneeled on the ground in his pure white and raised his arms out to the side and lifted his hands towards the Heaven’s, his eyes closing.

“Oh Holy Lord, I beg you to guide me. I am so lost. I took the vow of chastity 25 years ago and I have never felt temptation like this. He is my closest colleague and friend. While he kneels praying I can only wish he was kneeling for another reason. I want to touch him. I want to kiss him. But somehow this is all worse than lust. I think it to be love.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes tighter but it didn’t stop the tears from slipping out and softly falling onto his white robes, marking them.

“I am so lost Lord. So lost. I beg of you. You must help me. You must. You must,” he whimpered out. “I am consumed by thoughts of him. Consumed with guilt… consumed.”

Aziraphale’s hands shook, his chest silently heaving. “I thank and praise you, Lord. Amen.”

He stayed kneeling for many minutes, his knees aching and his heart hurting.

. . . . .

Crowley sat on the bench alone, checking the watch on his wrist for the fifth time. The mourning dove cooing beside him.

It got darker and darker, Crowley’s face growing more grim as the hours wore on.

Aziraphale hadn’t missed their time together since they started their arrangement to sit together in the evening.

Aziraphale watched behind the hedge, his heart breaking. 

Crowley seemed to close his eyes and say a prayer, his lips moving, but Aziraphale too far away to know what he was saying.

He finished praying and looked down at the cross on his chest in deep thought. He stood a few minutes later and left the garden, unknowing of Aziraphale watching with sadness in his eyes.

. . . . .

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was one day ago.”

“Why back so soon?”

“I am guilty of impure thoughts. I am guilty of being a coward. I doubted my faith. I am doubting my faith.”

“Holy father?”

“My penitence?”

The Cardinal cleared his throat. “Pray the rosary and ask God for guidance and to fill you with his faith. Holy father, might I-”

“No,” Aziraphale cut off. “Thank you and good day.” He said and exited the confessional.

. . . . .

“Holy Father,” Cardinal Crolwey greeted coldly.

“Your Eminence,” Aziraphale greeted with a wince, hoping to break his icy exterior.

Crowley began walking away. “Wait!”

Crowley stopped and turned to him, his hands behind his back. “Yes?” he asked impatiently.

“I am sorry for missing our time together last night. I was busy… contemplating things,” Aziraphale lied.

“Of course, your Holiness,” Crowley said coldly and turned to leave.

“Crowley!”

The Cardinals eyes widened at that looking to see if anyone heard him basically yell his name. “Yes, Holy Father?”

“Please, come to my study. I want to talk to you. In private. I need to tell you something,” Aziraphale begged.

Crowley seemed to debate for a bit before agreeing. “Okay. I’ll come to your study tonight.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said earnestly.

. . . . .

“Alert the council I will speak on the matter tomorrow.”

Gabriel gave him a big smile. “I am sure they will be glad to hear that, Holy Father. And I am sure you will be making the right decision on the matter. They have infiltrated the church for too long. The homosexuals must be removed from the church.”

Aziraphale looked at his bible on his desk, a frown on his face. “Leave me, I need to pray.”

. . . . .

Crowley knocked on the door three times quickly. 

The door swung open a beat later, showing Aziraphale dressed in a white sweater and pants.

“I am so glad you could make it, dear boy.”

“Of course, Holy Father.”

“Crowley please. Aziraphale tonight. If any night, let it be this one.”

Crowley gave him a small smile, trying not to think about what implications that sentence could possibly hold. “Okay, Aziraphale. What did you want to talk about?” He asked, settling into the corner of the sofa across from his chair.

“It’s about my address to the council tomorrow on the homosexual matter.”

Crowley’s eyes brightened. “Yeah?” 

“I am going to make it forbidden in the church. Being homosexual that is. I thought I should tell you in private.”

Silence hung heavy in the air. The bright look in Crowley’s eyes fading so quickly. 

Aziraphale wanted to look away but couldn’t. He looked so betrayed. His mouth hanging open, his eyes sad and angry. Aziraphale would swear he could see Crowley losing trust in him by the second.

He stood quickly from the couch, almost stumbling. He clutched his chest as though having a heart attack.

“Of course, your Holiness,” Crowley hissed out in anger. He clenched his fist to his cross, the metal digging into his palm.

“Holy Father. I understand completely. I shall give my resignation as soon as I have written it. Have a blessed night.”

“No, Crowley, wait. You don’t understand!” Aziraphale cried and reached out a hand to grab his wrist.

Crowley whipped around, anger painted on his face, tears in his eyes. “What exactly don’t I understand, Holy Father?”

“I had to.”

“You had to,” Crowley repeated back mockingly. Aziraphale hadn’t realized how warm and kind Crowley’s voice normally was until presented with the stark opposite.

Aziraphale winced. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand! You tell me to confide in you. You tell me you will never do this to me. Then you do the exact thing you said you wouldn’t. I understand completely, you are a liar and a coward.” 

Crowley wretched his wrist away, ignoring the pain maring Aziraphale’s soft face. 

“You, you idiot! It’s because I love you!”

Crowley stopped.

“I-” Azirpahale stuttered out. “Don’t you see. I love you. I...I adore you. I am enamoured with you. In every way a Pope shouldn’t be. I am consumed with you.”

Crowley walked quickly over until his face was a few inches from Aziraphale’s own. “You love me?”

“Like nothing I have ever loved before.”

“So you want to be rid of me? Be rid of people like me?”

Aziraphale’s eyes traced Crowley’s plush lips, so few inches from his own. “You are temptation incarnate. The devil.”

Crowley let out a traitorous breath. “Is that so bad?”

Aziraphale leaned forward and brushed his lips gently across Crowley’s, their chests pressing together, their crosses digging into them. Crowley’s lips were the softest thing the Pope had ever felt.

Crowley pulled back in shock, his eyes wide. “You don’t mean it,” he whispered between them.

“I mean it too much,” Aziraphale whispered back into the few inches of space between them.

“You took a vow of chastity.”

“So did you.”

“We can’t,” Crowley said softly, his lips wet with Aziraphale’s saliva. “We are sons of God.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “You look like Heaven. You feel like Heaven. You must be so. I want you. More than I want anything I think.”

“That’s blasphemy,” Crowley said, his voice cracking.

“And yet I mean every word.”

“Aziraphale. We will fall. You will have to resign. I will have to resign. We will be hated by the church. We could never return. You said you were going to condemn gay people.”

“I can’t. I couldn’t. Not truly. I’m too soft. I love too much.” Aziraphale gently clasped Crowley’s hand in his own. “This church without you I fear wouldn’t feel like home anymore. I don’t wake up with my first thought of God anymore. I was a lousy Pope anyway.”

Crowley felt a tear running down his cheek. “Oh Lord, forgive me,” he cried softly, before pressing his lips against Aziraphale’s. His hand winding into his hair covered with his zucchetto. 

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley, walking backwards until he fell onto the couch, Crowley falling on top of his lap. 

Their kisses grew in intensity, Crowley mouthing along his jawline.

Aziraphale slowly unbuttoned Crowley’s robes, pushing them to the floor. “My eyes have never seen such a holy sight as you. You are pure splendor,” Aziraphale mumbled in awe. 

Crowley began undoing Aziraphale’s clothing, the white robes pooling at their feet. The white a stark contrast to the red of Crowley’s. “Oh Holy Father in Heaven, forgive us for sinning but know it was only ever done in love.” Crowley whispered between pressing kisses to Aziraphale’s neck, revealed and pale in the moonlight shining through the windows.

“You’re devine. You burn so brightly,” Aziraphale said, his head thrown back as Crowley pressed feverish kisses down his chest. His tongue impossibly warm against his skin. “You feel like pure sin of the best kind. Like the finest water on a hot day.” Aziraphale muttered, his hands clutching Crowley’s body.

“Aziraphale, please, make love to me.”

Aziraphale groaned at his words, a steady flush covering his cheeks and chest. “I would be honored but I am afraid I never have. I wouldn’t know what to do. I took my vow at 25 and knew I wanted to be a priest at 17. I never had the occasion.”

Crowley gave a soft smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you what to do,” he said kindly, pressing an intimate kiss to Aziraphale’s collar bone. “Just focus on feeling good and I will feel the same.”

Aziraphale didn’t think he would have any issue with that. 

Crowley removed himself temporarily to take off his clothing, his lean body revealed. Aziraphale hungrily consumed the sight, his cock twitching to life. He hadn’t seen an aroused body in many many years and Crowley was the most beautiful sight he could possibly imagine.

“You too,” Crowley said with a smirk and gestured at his clothing.

The Holy Pontiff complied, removing the rest of his white robes, removing his zucchetto with shaking hands. He suddenly became very self conscious of his plush middle. 

“I hope I am- well, to your liking. I know I am not the most fit,” said Aziraphale with eyes downcast. “I am an aging man with a guilty pleasure in food.”

“You look like an angel,” Crowley said with wonder, taking in his round form. He looked like a glowing angel with the softest skin. The paintings all around the Vatican of angels couldn’t compare.

“Says temptation incarnate. You are stunning.”

Crowley sauntered over and grabbed the blonde’s hand noticing it was shaking slightly. “Bedroom?”

Aziraphale nodded, leaving behind their pile of clothes to lead Crowley to his bedroom. 

His bed was plush and warm. They crawled onto the bed together, pressing soft kisses to each other and turned to face each other. “Do you have any lube?”

Azirpahale sent him a small glare. “How exactly would the Pope obtain such a thing?”

“Fair enough,” Crowley said with a laugh. “Do you have any lotion?”

At that Aziraphale nodded and reached into his bedside table for his bottle of lotion he applied after showers. “Will this work?”

“Should,” Crowley says and stretches a little like a cat after a long day. “Now, put a little lotion on your finger and push it slowly inside me. Then just keep adding lotion and fingers until I am stretched enough for you. Simple,” Crowley says with warmth in his voice.

Aziraphale nodded very serious like. He took the lotion and put a bit on his finger and circled Crowley’s rim. Crowley shuffled forward to press his lips against his own as he slowly pushed the finger in with some resistance.

“Mmm, just like that,” Crowley murmured appreciatively.

Aziraphale relaxed a bit at the praise and let himself get lost in kissing Crowley. He had many dreams about kissing his neck and his chest. Always wondering what type of build he had under his large robes. He began working more fingers in him, his other hand lost in his red wavy hair. 

Crowley started to rock back on the fingers, his face starting to get flushed, small moans escaping his mouth. 

Aziraphale tangled a hand in his long hair, tugging his face to him to kiss him deeply.

“Oh darling, are you ready for me?” Aziraphale asked panting softly. His cock was hard and flushed. Crowley made the most beautiful sight moaning and writhing against the bed.

“Yeah, please. Fuck me, Azirapahle,” Crowley choked out.

The swear made Aziraphale’s blood boil, his already hard cock started to leak. 

He applied lotion around his cock, relishing the relief it gave him and arranged himself over Crowley, locking his eyes with his own as he slowly pushed in.

“Oh God,” Aziraphale gasped out as his cock was surrounded by Crowley’s velvety insides. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced in his life. It was absolutely amazing.

“Good?” Crowley asked a bit smugly, his cock red and leaking. He hadn’t been fucked in probably 30 years and it felt better than he remembered.

“So good,” Aziraphale gasped and experimentally pulled back to thrust forward, his chest heaving. “Oh my darling, you feel so incredible.” He moaned out as he pulled out to thrust back in.

Crowley moaned as Aziraphale started to pick up the pace, his hands wandering Aziraphale’s body. His fingers dug into his plush hips as Aziraphale started to hit his prostate. 

“I don’t think I am going to last much longer, angel,” Crowley warned as he felt tension building in his body. It felt so much better than he could have even imagined.

“I don’t think I will either.”

Aziraphale’s hips started to stutter as he rocked into Crowley, sweat starting to make his white curls become more messy. Crowley reached down to fist his cock as he fucked into him.

“Oh God,” Aziraphale cried as he came. His cock spurting inside Crowley.

Crowley groaned at the feeling of his cum in his body, tightening around Aziraphale’s sensitive cock as he came. His cock spurting onto his stomach. 

Aziraphale collapsed next to him and removed his softening cock with a wince, his heart beating erratically in his chest.

Crowley wrapped himself around Aziraphale like a snake, his face shoved against his neck, smiling as he felt Aziraphale press a kiss to the top of his head.

Aziraphale took his hand to push the sweaty curls away from his face, Crowley blinking his eyes slowly open at Aziraphale.

They sat in comfortable warmth, only the sounds of their breathing interrupting the stillness of the night.

"Are we going to hell?" Aziraphale asked.

"If this is hell, I don't think it would be so bad."

The Pope thought for a moment about the Cardinal’s response before nodding.

"I don't think God cares. I think," he paused, biting his bottom lip. "God wants us to love. What is a greater act of God then love? So what if I just happen to love a man. Happen to love you."

Crowley didn't respond but Aziraphale thought he was smiling. "We are going to have to leave. Resign."

There was a soft silence where both men contemplated.

"I've always wanted to open a bookstore,” Aziraphale said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" Crowley asked with interest, propping his head up with his arm.

"I think I would like a quiet life. A.Z. Fell's Books. It has a nice ring to it."

Crowley took a deep breath in, trying to build courage. "Think you might consider adding a 'And Partner' to that sign?" 

Aziraphale sat up a little with a bright smile. "I think that's an excellent idea, my dear. A.Z. Fell and Partner Books.”

Crowley smiled and leaned forward to kiss Aziraphale, wrapping his arms around his neck. “We’ll get through this,” he said as a promise.

“Of course we will.”

“Our side.”

“Our side.”

. . . . .

“After the unexpected resignation of Pope Leo XIII who was the youngest Pope in history, we anxiously await news of the new Pope. With the church fighting amongst itself due to the radical news of Pope Leo XIII not only being gay but Cardinal Crowley also, there is a lot of tension to be found. Recently, the pair were spotted together in London and apparently romantically involved, this has led to many young people deeming the pair Saints of Queers but also many say the pair are a sign of the end times. People surround Vatican City with posters and portraits of the two men with both halos or horns. Well, time will only tell what Pope will follow who many are calling the greatest and worst Pope of our time.”

. . . . .

“Angel, can you get the windows?” Crowley called from the back room of the bookshop. Well, bookshop might be a stretch. It contained many books but little selling of them ever occured if ever.

After their outing and resignation both men had acquired quite a devoted cult following. Quickly, word spread about the resigned Pope’s bookshop where ex-Cardinal Crowley in scandalously tight clothing could be found slouching and kissing Aziraphale.

This had led to their small bookshop becoming a tourist destination in London. Even a year after they had both left people still came to visit daily.

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley’s call, placing a bookmark in his well loved book and closing the curtains, waving at the people outside taking pictures of the storefront who began screaming his name at his arrival.

He made sure all the outer and inner curtains were perfectly closed before walking to the back of the bookstore which was tucked away where Crowley could be found, his hair mused from the nap he was taking.

Aziraphale came over to sit next to Crowley, the red haired man immediately turning towards his body and wrapping his limbs around him, huffing softly. “Have a good nap I take it?”

Crowley nodded silently against his chest and raised up a bit to press a soft kiss to his neck just above the tartan bowtie he had taken to wearing. 

Aziraphale tightened his arms around Crowley and gave a soft laugh as Crowley’s long hair tickled his neck. “Ready for dinner, dear boy?”

“Course, angel. Where we going?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment while he ran his hands over Crowley’s sides. “The place down the road you like so much?”

Crowley smiled and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. “Perfect. Then after we can stop at the bakery and get you something. They are making the crepes you like today.”

Azirphale beamed at that and brought Crowley into a smiling kiss. 

Aziraphale stood up, lacing his hands with Crowley and pulling him to his feet. “We better get a wiggle on before the dinner rush.”

Crowley laughed at his outdated language, his bright smile slowly fading. “Angel?”

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked softly, noticing his change in mood.

“Do you ever regret it? This? Us? Leaving the church.”

Aziraphale stopped for a moment and thought, this thumb stroking the back of Crowley’s hand. 

“No,” he said simply. “I miss the church sometimes. The way light would hit stained glass. I miss being surrounded by other people who felt religion as deeply as me. But I could never regret this. You. The life we have. I am so happy. I have you. My love. You are my sunlight. I wish the church didn’t view love of people and love of God so different. So contrasting,” he took a deep breath and tugged on their joined hands, bringing Crowley pressed against him. “I can love God in my heart. My mind. God is still with me. I can feel them. But I also get to wake up next to you. And simply there is no greater feeling on all of the Earth than having God and you.”

Crowley felt his eyes growing misty. “Angel,” he began, then stopped himself. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now let’s go get dinner before the dinner rush.”

Crowley laughed but let himself be led out the back of the bookstore and into the busy London street where they disappeared into the crowd of other average people.


End file.
